There was the faint sound of shuffling footsteps.
Light from the outer wall of the courtyard shone over, bright and expansive.
His gaze was still fixed on her face, but out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something and suddenly furrowed his brow. Seeing Meng Ying still staring blankly from the passenger seat, Liang Zongxu said to her, “There’ll be quite a crowd in a little while.”
Meng Ying felt her cheeks grow slightly warm. She turned her head and mumbled a vague “Mm-hmm,” then caught a glimpse of his composed, unflappable demeanor and couldn’t help but mutter, “ Such a schemer…”
“What?”
The question—neither too loud nor too soft—was lost amid the sound of them both opening their car doors.
Meng Ying said nothing.
Liang Zongxu walked around the front of the car to her side, studied her deadpan expression closely, and decided he must have misheard her.
The corridor wound through seven twists and turns, with white walls and black tiles; though no lamps were visible, bright light illuminating the path could be seen everywhere.
A massive rockery stood on the lake, and the desolate shadows of green bamboo were cast onto the white wall across from it.
The lake in the depths of winter was calm and pitch-black, like an inkstone, neat and orderly.
The two walked toward the tea room where the reception was to be held.
Meng Ying had been to the tea room at Xiyuan before, but she didn’t know there was this path.
Noticing her gaze, Liang Zongxu asked what was wrong.
“Are we taking a detour?”
Liang Zongxu said, “Some people are here today. If we run into them, we’ll end up talking for a long time. Let’s go inside first.”
Meng Ying nodded. The next moment, she gazed at the sharp line of his jaw in the interplay of light and shadow and, in a tone as light as scattered beads, asked, “How many relationships have you been in?”
Slowing his pace, Liang Zongxu looked down to meet her gaze, their silhouettes reflected on the dark surface of the lake.
He didn’t know why she was asking this.
He said, “I’ve never been in a relationship.”
Meng Ying said nothing, raising her eyes with an inscrutable expression.
That look again. Liang Zongxu realized that although she seemed lighthearted and harmless—always gentle and smiling toward everyone—she was actually extremely guarded.
Liang Zongxu said, “Don’t try to guess. I really haven’t. It’s nothing unusual. You know I’m very busy—”
“How would I know?” Meng Ying blurted out.
She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she felt that everything he’d said to her tonight had a rather ambiguous undertone.
Liang Zongxu had no idea what she was thinking, so he simply went along with her, saying, “Fine, you don’t know. But I’m telling you the truth.”
She fell silent, her expression one of indifference—as if she’d taken it in, yet hadn’t. Liang Zongxu couldn’t make sense of it. Her expressions were rich—the corners of her eyes and the arches of her brows were incredibly vivid. She spoke a lot and had a lot on her mind; her thoughts changed in the blink of an eye.
Standing in the corridor, where a chilly breeze crept in from all sides, Liang Zongxu gave up on pressing her. “Let’s go. It’s too cold out here.”
Crossing a stone bridge, Meng Ying realized Liang Zongxu was leading her to the back door.
The light here was particularly dim, and the wooden door—its age unknown—looked somber and solemn.
Liang Zongxu reached out to push the door; it was clearly quite heavy, and the sturdy bones of his wrist tensed slightly.
Meng Ying stepped in ahead of him and whispered a thank-you as she sidestepped past him; Liang Zongxu said nothing.
For some reason, a sense of unease welled up inside him. He furrowed his brow, watching her back as she stepped through the doorway, then after a long moment replied coldly, “You’re welcome.”
Once they were inside, the door closed with a heavy thud behind them, but there was no sign of a light switch.
Caught off guard by the sudden darkness, Meng Ying hesitated and turned around. “Is there no light…?”
She caught a whiff of the chill emanating from his suit jacket.
And a faint, almost imperceptible scent of aftershave—like the surface of a lake or cold stone she’d just passed by.
Her forehead brushed against him, a very light touch against his chest. Liang Zongxu’s hand, which had been reaching for the light switch, paused. In that split second when his heart softened, he didn’t even realize what he was saying—
He asked her, “How many ex-boyfriends have you had?”
His tone wasn’t as gentle and composed as it had been a moment ago.
Their exchange seemed fair on the surface, but was in fact forceful and direct.
Even though his hand had reached the light switch, he remained motionless.
Her eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, looked up, and Meng Ying discovered he was staring down at her.
His features weren’t entirely clear, but his gaze was direct and intense, dark and heavy. Meng Ying could sense his restrained breathing.
Before she could say anything, suddenly, voices drew near, and a hazy glow appeared in the distance.
Meng Ying turned her head; her soft, golden hair brushed against the tip of his nose. His hand on the switch suddenly relaxed, and the light above them came on.
It was blindingly bright.
Everything was laid bare.
When she looked back at him, there was no trace of emotion left on Liang Zongxu’s face.
“Let’s go.”
He remained calm and composed as he walked forward, as if the remark from the shadows had never been uttered.
Even his retreating figure looked quite dignified.
Meng Ying found him quite intriguing.
She stood still and said to him, “Oh, so you don’t want to know?”
Liang Zongxu felt as if something were holding him back.
—The moment she spoke, he had to stop in his tracks.
He turned as she said, and Meng Ying immediately broke into a smile, which spread across her face like blooming petals.
She walked briskly past him, her spirits high, her eyes and brows arched as if she’d seen right through him. Her lips parted slightly, and with a casual “I don’t want to tell you,” she drifted away.
Liang Zongxu: “……”
Meng Ying didn’t know why she felt a little happy either.
But she really liked the feeling of being in control of him, especially when he wore that meticulously serious expression.
She liked that he did whatever she said.
—Whether he was happy or unhappy, he would always do something. He would never do nothing.
Perhaps it was simply his upbringing, but Meng Ying knew deep down that he must care about her.
After all, the way he’d called her “wife” so matter-of-factly had actually startled her.
Still, she didn’t care what motivated his concern—whether it was self-interest or a matter of status, it didn’t matter.
Liang Zongxu followed behind her.
He couldn’t figure out her sudden change in mood.
Clearly, she was teasing him. “I don’t want to tell you”—he didn’t know if she spoke to her sister this way normally.
They were so close—she’d even stayed in the same room with her sister on their wedding night—and he had no idea what she was like around those closest to her.
She didn’t want to tell him—why not? When would she want to?
That would require a lot of probing.
Liang Zongxu knew full well that such follow-up questions had no place in their relationship.
Liang Zongxu was right; there were already quite a few people standing in the tea room.
She recognized some from her own wedding—uncles, aunts, Liang Zongxu’s second uncle Liang Bingbai, and his younger sister-in-law Liang Simei. The two of them were seated at the very edge, chatting with people around them.
As for the rest, Meng Ying had crossed paths with them to some extent while dealing with Jiusheng’s senior management recently.
Since no reason for the dinner had been given before they arrived, Meng Ying asked Liang Zongxu, “Is there something going on?”
Liang Zongxu shook his head, glanced into the distance, and led her through a side door. As he closed the door, he said, “It’s the end of the year, and Xiyuan always hosts a special dinner for the group’s long-serving employees.”
He sat down beside her, but his expression didn’t seem as relaxed as he’d described.
Meng Ying remained silent, recalling the undercurrents of tension within the Liang family at their wedding.
Just the two daughters and one son of the Meng family had already fought it out to this extent. Meng Hui had devoted all his energy to it over the past few years, yet he was still struggling to keep things afloat. As for the vast Jiusheng—the very foundation of a family business, with its deeply entrenched and complex web of relationships—Meng Ying could well imagine the cutthroat rivalry going on behind the scenes.
The room was narrow, resembling a storage closet or a makeshift break room.
With just a few chairs and a table, Liang Zongxu sat quietly with his back against the chair, his expression composed and his gaze pensive.
Sporadic sounds drifted in from the outer room.
Noticing her attention, Liang Zongxu asked, “What’s the matter?”
Meng Ying replied, “Is it always like this at this time of year?”
Liang Zongxu did not answer immediately.
He seemed somewhat pensive. After a moment, he said, “At this time of year in previous years, I was abroad; it was always my father who handled things.”
He had been sent abroad on business at a very young age. Meng Ying had heard rumors of this. In the early years, whenever Jiusheng’s overseas businesses were mentioned, Liang Zongxu’s name was always brought up. She just hadn’t realized the turn of events would come so suddenly.
Meng Ying fell silent as well. She sat down across from him, her expression somewhat cautious.
Listening to the sounds of people passing by outside, Liang Zongxu kept wondering if Liang Changsheng had summoned him specifically to discuss this matter.
He wasn’t sure how his father had handled things over the past few years, but he knew full well that his father had a short temper. When he returned from abroad a month later for the New Year festivities, he could clearly sense the lingering tension that hadn’t yet dissipated at Xiyuan.
“What are you thinking about?”
Liang Zongxu looked up.
Meng Ying stood up again. She walked to the door, listened intently, then mouthed the words to him in a low voice: “There seem to be more people out there…”
“Are you thinking about that group outside?” she asked.
Liang Zongxu shook his head. “I’m just wondering how my father would have handled this.”
This was his first year in full control of the conglomerate—
His first year-end.
“What about you?”
Meng Ying walked around the room in a circle. She didn’t seem able to stay still for very long—pacing, speaking. She appeared considerate, her footsteps light and her voice soft, but still—
“What about you? What would you do?”
Liang Zongxu looked at her.
She spoke offhandedly. The small side window wouldn’t open, so she couldn’t see the hazy view outside. Meng Ying turned her head toward Liang Zongxu, who had been sitting upright by the door since entering—not having moved a muscle, his expression pensive—and was now staring intently at her. “Why won’t this open?”
She was frustrated, and probably bored as well, hoping he would come over and help her.
Liang Zongxu: “…..”
Author’s Note:
Thank you, everyone~